


The world has folded in your heart

by stilessexual



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilessexual/pseuds/stilessexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tension of the past few weeks causes Erica to have a bit of a breakdown. She finds comfort and friendship in Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The world has folded in your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, everyone! This is my first published fic. It's nothing special, but it's sorta of a conversation I wish Stiles and Erica would have. It's set in season 2, a bit before we find out who controls the Kanima. The title of this one-shot was inspired by the lyrics of the song Save Me by Remy Zero.

“What’s wrong?” It was in the slump of her shoulders, the downward cast of her eyes. Wrong.

  
“Nothing,” she said quietly, the quick _tap tap tap_ of her heels getting lost in the commotion of the hallway.

  
“Oh, come on Erica!” Stiles said hitching his backpack strap over his shoulder, and struggling to keep up with the blonde. “No witty banter? No pushing me into inanimate objects? Where’s the love?”

  
“Stiles,” her voice was strained; the lovely curls of her hair covering her face. “I’m really not in the mood,”

  
“I thought you were always in the mood?” he replied with an easy smile, a taste akin to worry flooding his mouth. “Like a rabbit, always ready to get it on?” The world suddenly spun on its axis, and Stiles felt the familiar ache in his back as he collided with the wall.

  
“Oh,” he exhaled, “there you are,” But Erica didn’t seem to see the hilarity in the situation. He expected a come-and-get-me grin, or maybe even angry glowing eyes. He definitely didn’t expect the haunted, sad look on her face, the downward tilt of her lips.

  
“Stiles,” she whispered, eyes momentarily closing –in pain, in anger, in something. “Stop”

  
“S-stopping,” he nodded, “sure, yeah, easy peasy. Totally stopping.”

  
She pushed off of him and walked away without another word, leaving him stutteringly uselessly to her retreating figure.

  
They weren’t friends.

  
They didn’t like each other too much either.

  
Those were simply basic facts of life.

 

But, it was probably somewhere between the time he held her while she almost died _again_ and the time they shared a joke that wasn’t at his expense that they formed something too intense to just be friends but a little too fragile to be anything more than that.

  
But they weren’t friends. Not really.

  
Except, he walked to the nearest vending machine and quickly bought three Butterfingers –nasty, nasty things but for some reason she liked them. It took 45 minutes and too many awkward questions from Scott and a few raised brows from Boyd but he found her on the roof of all places. She stood too near the edge for comfort –his comfort. He felt his hands clam up; his heart lodge in his throat and a mantra of _please please please please_ start in his head.

  
“It wouldn’t kill me,” she called out, smile in her voice. Her feet were bare, her leather jacket and heels were lying a few feet away. The flimsy top she wore flapping in the breeze. “At least, I don’t think so.” She looked like a goddess with her hair flowing and the surprising triskelion tattoo at the crook of her elbow.

  
“Hey, why don’t you--” he started and stopped. His throat was too dry with the silent pleas of _no._ “Please, Erica.”

  
“I won’t jump,” she said, stepping lightly off of the ledge towards him. “I wouldn’t do that. Not to Derek. Or the pack.”

  
“G-good. Awesome.” He breathed; felt like his diaphragm would break from how hard he wanted to curl around himself in relief. “Really awesome.”

  
“I scared you,” she said it like it was the absolute truth, her face clouded. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  
“What?” he said, holding on to the anger because it felt so much better then the fear. “What? Seriously? Are you serious?” He tossed the candy bars at her, “Take your damn candy.”

  
“This is my favorite,” she huffed a laugh, or choked back a cry. He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell.

  
“Yeah, asshole, I know.” He said, wringing the bottom of his shirt. “That wasn’t cool, Erica. That move was so far from cool it was in another universe where cool doesn’t even exist.”

  
“I had a rough day,” she made that face, that stupid face that she makes when she’s upset and he wants punch a wall because it wrenches him. “I needed to clear my head.”

 

“So you decide to wallow in angst on the ledge of a roof? A high, deadly roof?”

 

“I wasn’t going to jump!” she yelled, breaking. He broke her, but it wasn’t triumph he felt in the twist of his gut. “This life! Stiles, everything that’s going on? It fucks with you on the worst levels! You get so fucking involved you forget there’s a life outside of this! That other people worry about jobs and taxes! I go to sleep thinking of attack strategies and wake up and think fuck, I have a chemistry test!”

 

“I thought you wanted this,” he wanted to accuse her, to yell at her, to spew out a few fucking thousand _I told you sos._ But her words hit too close to home, too close to the constant anxiety in the pit of his stomach and the migraine starting behind his right eye.

 

“I did!” her hands fluttered, the chocolate was probably melting. “I do! Derek has given me so much. He gave me my health back. He gave me a family.”

 

“Then what is it, Erica?” he breathed. He needed answers too, and if she found them he wanted to know.

 

“I’m sick of worrying about who’s gonna die,” she choked, the tears she’d been hold back spilt. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but it was something. It was everything.

 

“Me too,” he breathed, and it felt like the weight of the world finally came off of his chest. “All the time,”

 

“I look at them, at you. Scott. Hell, even Allison…I want to memorize everything because I feel like any of us could die.”

 

“Yeah, we could.”

 

A thought found its way to the forefront of his mind: This girl tried to climb a rock wall to prove to herself that she could. He thought that nothing encompassed Erica as that one moment did.

 

“We actually do have a chemistry test tomorrow,” he said, mustering up a smile. He knelt and picked up her jacket and heels.

 

“Yeah?” she replied, wiping her tears.

 

“You could come over, we could study.” He finally met her eyes, to find them widened in shock. “You could stay for dinner. We’re having tacos tonight. Sounds chill?”

 

“Yeah,” she laughed, “Yeah, sounds…chill.”

 

“What I’m trying to say is,” he cleared his throat, once, twice. “You don’t have to be alone to remind yourself of who you are or whatever. You could talk to me. Or, hell, you could talk to sourwolf. He seems to be getting better at communication.”

 

“Yeah,” she repeated, somber. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Good,” he smiled, “Awesome. ”


End file.
